“How is she?”
His face fills with worry. “She needs a lung transplant. Real soon.”
“I—” I know, I was about to say, two little words that would tip him off. I know who you are. I know your third coconspirator.
She has my baby boy.
“You what?” he says.
“I’m sorry.”
His phone chirps again, the screen glowing against his masked fingers. Now, finally, he checks the screen. Smiles. Turns it around so I can see.
My heart alights, beating so suddenly that it’s almost painful.
Cam.
The man swipes a thumb across the screen and presses it to his ear. “Cam. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
At her father’s name, Beatrix jerks on her seat, her expression so hopeful it cracks open my heart. My children, both of them, love their mama. I know they do. Whenever they scrape a knee or have a nightmare, when they need a kiss or a cuddle, they come crying to me. But Cam always gets the best of them—the moments when they want to laugh or play or just sit quietly and talk. When they curl up beside him on the couch on the weekend even though they don’t give a flying fig about football. There’s no one they worship more than their father.
And now Beatrix wants nothing more than to believe that her father is about to storm the doors and save her. Save us.
Honestly, kid: ditto.
“Hang on, hang on. Let me put this on speakerphone so everybody can hear.” The man pulls the phone away and taps the screen, then holds it in a palm. “Okay, big man. How about you say that again.”
“You asshole! Listen to me, hear these words I’m about to say to you. You can hit me. You can break my bones and point a gun at my head. You can pull the trigger and blow out my brains, but you do NOT TOUCH MY WIFE.” The last bit comes out in an enraged shout, a deafening roar that rattles the windows and my bones.
The silence that descends is sticky, pulling like tar.
The man gestures to the phone in his hand. “Go ahead, Jade. This one’s all yours.”
“I’m fine, Cam. Honestly.”
“Babe, do not listen to this guy. He is lying to you, I swear. None of that stuff he told you was true. I didn’t take anything from—”
“Uh-uh-uh,” the man interrupts, his mouth millimeters from the microphone. “Yet again, you think everything is about you, but I’m here to tell you, Cam. This is about me. About all the myriad ways my life is screwed up because of you. And I hate to tell you, but now your daughter knows, too. She knows the kind of shitty man her father is.”
“This has nothing to do with them, Sebastian. This is between you and me. Let my family go.”
Sebastian. That’s his name, the almost-partner, the lawsuit instigator. Sebastian.
He holds the phone inches away from his face. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. When you reneged on our deal, you took away my ability to protect my family, which means this? This right here, right now? It’s also about yours.”
“So, what—an eye for an eye? Is that what this is?”
“Maybe. Maybe it’s karma.”
“Oh come on. That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re not the only one who lost money on Oakhurst. I lost out in that deal, too, remember?”
“Let me tell you the difference, Cam.” Sebastian makes a face when he says the name, spits it through an ugly curled lip. “You lost what’s for you pocket change while I lost everything. I lost my savings, my livelihood, my house, my wife, the shirt off my back and my daughter’s. I had to declare bankruptcy, and you know what happens to your chronically sick kid when you do that? You get to swap out your health insurance with Medicaid. How do you tell your little girl that they won’t approve the lung transplant that’s supposed to save her life because you can’t afford the medication she needs to make those new lungs stick? This money you’re bringing me, it’s what you took from me plus interest, plus all the medical costs, which thanks to you, my shitty insurance doesn’t cover.”
“That…that’s absurd. What do you think the hospital is going to say when you hand them a bag of cash? You don’t think they’ll start asking questions?”
“They can ask as many questions as they want, but at least my baby will get her new lungs.”
“Sebastian, they’re going to catch you. You know that, right?”
“Shut up.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Oh, like you helped me before?” he scoffs, and his tone darkens with disgust, with fury. “Sorry, Cam, but that shit don’t fly. Your promises hold no credibility with me anymore. Zero. Not after what you did last time I came to you with a problem. Tell everybody here what you said.”